The Heir of Slytherin
by CycleDown93
Summary: AU. Harry's parents lived, as did many others, simply because Tom Riddle was born only three years before Harry. Full summary inside.
1. Secret Abilities

I noticed that there weren't many fics with Tom Riddle and Harry that wasn't slash, so I made one. Enjoy it, or hate it, but I'd prefer if you'd enjoy it.

Summary: Harry's parents lived, as did many others, simply because Tom Riddle was only born three years before Harry. Now it's Harry's second year, and the Chamber of Secrets has been opened.

In a world where Dumbledore is the Headmaster during Riddle's reign at Hogwarts, will Tom Riddle be able to survive to become Lord Voldemort? And how does all this affect Harry and his siblings?

**DISCLAMIER**: I wished I was creative enough to own Harry Potter, but sadly, I am not.

Chapter One: Secret Abilities

Tom Riddle climbed the all too familiar spiraling staircase to the Headmaster's office. Although he was in the top of all his classes, and Prefect, Dumbledore never ceased to keep watching over Tom, especially now that the Chamber of Secrets was opened.

Dumbledore was the only staff member who wasn't charmed by Riddle; even the notorious Professor Snape seemed a little more lenient on Tom. No matter, the memory of Dumbledore's first meeting with the Riddle boy still disturbed the Headmaster. Tom only wished he hadn't revealed as much as he did. It would have certainly made things easier at Hogwarts.

At the top staircase was a small dark haired boy, pressing his ear to the door, desperately. Tom Riddle smirked.

"You won't hear anything," said Tom, watching with satisfaction as the boy jumped back away from the door, frightened. "The Headmaster himself has placed Anti-Eavesdropping charms around his office."

The boy nodded, nervously. No doubt he feared Riddle, as a known Prefect, would report this, but little did this boy know, Tom Riddle could care less about people spying on the Headmaster. In fact, he actually encouraged it.

"What is your name?" Tom demanded, causing the boy to stir a little, "and your year?" Although, Riddle thought he already had this one pinned to be a first year, as small as he was.

"It's Harry Potter," said the boy hesitantly. "I'm a second year."

Riddle nodded, not showing his surprise. A Potter, he thought. He had heard about that family, how the Potter's were pure bloods, that is, until the only son of an only son married a Mudblood.

"Are you going to report me?" Harry asked, an edge dangerous nervousness becoming clear in his voice now. It reminded Tom of himself at age twelve.

"Certainly not," Tom said.

"Oh," said Harry, relieved. He sat on the steps, though he looked at Riddle with his head titled. "Then why did you ask for my name?"

"I was curious." Riddle stated, growing impatient. If Dumbledore wanted to see him, at least he could make sure he'd be ready when Tom arrived.

Riddle leaned against the wall. Dumbledore should really have put chairs outside his office, if he was going to make a habit of having students wait outside his door. He watched the Potter boy rub his bright green eyes.

"So, kid," said Riddle, "what did you do?"

Harry stared back at Riddle. "I'm not allowed to say." And with that, Potter turned back around.

Obviously, this Harry Potter didn't know who he was talking to, but all the same, Riddle found himself rather liking the boy. When it was time to put his plans in motion, Riddle decided that this Potter would be at the top of his recruitment list. But that didn't mean Tom wasn't going to press the boy for farther information. He was only getting started.

Tom moved from his spot against the wall to the step Harry sat on, hoping that this would make the boy either open up, or become so uncomfortable he'd give Riddle the information he wanted to know.

"I'm sure dear Professor Dumbledore wouldn't mind if you told me," Tom lied, "I'm a Prefect, you know."

"Yes, I know who you are," Harry said, surprising Riddle even farther. If Harry knew who he was, why wasn't he more afraid? "Dumbledore doesn't like you very much."

Riddle hid his shock, and mild anger. "And how would you know that?"

"Just a feeling I get," Harry shrugged.

"Do you value his opinion?" Riddle asked, smirking, hoping to make Harry uncomfortable, but once again the boy surprised him.

"Not at all!" Harry said, sounding somewhat offended, and Tom's fondness for the Potter boy grew very much. "I would be insane to take thought to his opinions. He hates me more than you."

"Impossible," Tom thought, out loud.

"Even my parents hate me now." Harry said, looking towards the ground, biting his lip, as if he'd said too much.

"Why do you say that?" Riddle tried to keep the eagerness from his voice, and tried to sound as sympathetic as possible.

Harry turned his face back around, looking Riddle in the eyes. He made a screwed expression, as if he were making a difficult decision.

"Promise you won't tell," Harry ordered.

Tom nodded.

Harry leaned in and whispered, "I can speak to snakes."

Riddle was absolutely ecstatic. It was crazy, two Parseltongues in Hogwarts at the same time! Riddle didn't know what to do with this information. He thought that only the bloodline of Slytherin could have that ability. Surely, the Potters weren't related to Slytherin.

"Do you think I'm a freak, too?" Harry asked, clearly worried when Riddle did not say anything back.

"No, not at all," said Tom, "And since you told me your secret, I'll tell you mine."

"Okay," Harry said, cheerfully.

Riddle took a deep breathe, thinking that he would regret telling this to Harry too soon, but at the same time reminding himself that he must gain Potter's trust.

"I can speak to snakes, too." Riddle made his announcement proudly.

"Really?"

"Yes," Riddle assured, "but you must not tell anyone, just like I won't tell anyone about you."

Harry nodded, a little too quickly.

"You must also know that being a Parseltongue is not a bad thing," Riddle continued, "no matter what Dumbledore, or your parents say. Being a Parseltongue is a rare gift that we must hide only because it scares people and makes them jealous."

Harry seemed to be a little more cheerful after Riddle's confession, and that he took time to explain Parseltongue in a non-biased way. The more Riddle explained the more Harry hung on his every word.

Suddenly Riddle jumped up, "your parents are on their way out. Dumbledore must not know we were talking. He wouldn't like it."

"Don't you think that's a little paranoid, Tom?" Harry asked, innocently, making Riddle smile. If only Harry knew the plans Riddle had. If only Harry knew how far along Dumbledore was in discovering all Riddle's secrets.

Harry too, stood up, as James and Lily Potter finally came out of Dumbledore's office, looking some where between confused and relieved. The young Potter gave a small wave and smile at Riddle before descending the staircase with his parents.

"You may come in now, Tom." The voice inside the office sounded tired, which was good. The shorter the conversation was, the better the outcome. Riddle made his way in, and sat in his usual spot opposite of Dumbledore.

"Why is it that you called me here, Professor?" Tom tried his hardest to sound polite, even though he knew charming the Headmaster would never happen. Not after the orphanage incident.

"I simply wanted to talk to you, Tom." Dumbledore said, gently. It was a fake gentleness. He was trying to get Tom to let his guard down. That too, would never happen.

"Okay," said Tom, not letting any emotion out in his voice.

Dumbledore stared at Riddle for a moment, in which time Riddle prepared his mental shields. He knew what the old fool was doing! It didn't take rocket science to notice Dumbledore was an expert at Occulmency, but Riddle was almost an equal match. Finally, after getting nothing from Riddle's mind, Dumbledore broke the stare.

"Is there something you wish to tell me, Tom?" Dumbledore asked, kindly, but Riddle knew that this was not kind words. This was a threat. Dumbledore was on to him and his Chamber, and he wanted Tom to know it.

"Nothing, Sir," said Tom, as kind as ever. Dumbledore wasn't the only one who could play the pretend game.

"Very well," Dumbledore sighed, "you may go."

Tom Riddle wasted no time getting out of there. He would never admit it, but Albus Dumbledore had to be the only he ever and would ever fear.

Outside of Hogwarts, Lily bid her children goodbye. She gave them all one last look before telling the twins, Aydan and Ally, to leave her and Harry. They both gave her hugs, and ran off to play with their friends.

"Harry," said Lily lovingly, "I just want you to know, that your father and I love you no matter what."

Harry frowned, although it did feel good to hear his mother say this. "Dad hates me."

"He most certainly does not!" Lily said, passionately.

"Then why didn't he say goodbye?" Harry questioned, "Why didn't he stay to eat with us?" Lily was afraid that Harry might get the wrong impression about all this. The last thing they needed was for Harry to think that his father hated him.

"He is very confused about all this," Lily said, "as we all are. Everyone had thought the only wizards and witches who could talk to snakes were a descendant of Slytherin."

"Until me," said Harry, though now he was wondering about Tom Riddle. Riddle couldn't be a Slytherin, could he?

"Exactly," said Lily, "and since Potters are known descendants from Gryffindor, this raises a lot of questions."

"Mother?" Harry asked, "Does Professor Dumbledore think _I'm_ the one behind all the attacks?"

"Of course not," Lily said, "Albus was simply surprised about your ability, that's all. He was concerned."

Harry rubbed his head. "Oh, that makes sense."

Lily regretted having to leave her first son so soon, especially now, when he was clearly having doubts about the people around him, but she really had to go. She had to make sure James was okay.

She hugged Harry goodbye, and told him she loved him. Then she made her way to the gate, while Harry waved as she stepped through, and apparated.

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Author's Note: Review, review, review. Feedback makes me happy. Should I continue this one?


	2. The Dangerous Snape

**DISCLAIMER**: I still do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter Two: The Dangerous Snape

Riddle scowled. His mission to rid the school of Mudbloods was going very badly. It was merely luck that saved the Mudbloods. That kid, Justin, was only still alive because Nearly Headless Nick. How unlucky and messy the whole situation was turning out to be.

One of the worst parts was that Dumbledore seemed to pop up wherever Riddle happened to be. It was extremely hard for him to contact his monster while Dumbledore was watching him. Tom had to wait for those rare moments when Dumbledore left the castle to call to the basilisk, and with Dumbledore noticing the pattern; he now hardly ever left the school.

There was something else other than rotten luck and Dumbledore's meddling that hindered Riddle's attempts to kill off the Mudbloods. It was Harry Potter, the descendant of Gryffindor with the abilities and characteristics of a true Slytherin. Riddle was simply fascinated by him, another Parseltongue.

Tom had spent many nights in the library trying to find out more about the Potters. He tried to find something that would make sense of Harry's ability. But each night, he found nothing. It frustrated him even more than his previous search of his own family.

Finally, Riddle decided that there was nothing worth searching for in the library. It occurred to him that if the Potters were somehow related to Slytherin, they wouldn't want it made known. They would have tried to hide it, wipe every connection from the family tree. But how does someone go about finding go family connections when they've been hidden for years? Riddle had an idea, but he needed it to be confirmed.

"Professor," said Riddle, "I need to ask you a question."

Professor Slughorn loved nothing more to answer the questions of the few students he found worthy of the extra attention. Riddle knew this all too well.

"Ask away, my boy, ask away," said the Professor, watching the student fifth years filing out of the classroom.

"I was wondering if there was a potion that would trace a person's ancestors." Tom said, looking at Slughorn as he cleaned the front table of spilled ingredients.

"Hmm, I have never heard of such a potion," Slughorn answered, and Riddle's face fell, "But Professor Snape would know if there was."

Tom's hopes resurfaced, although he didn't like Snape in the least bit. It was dangerous asking anything of him, because Riddle knew that Snape and Dumbledore were close. Anything suspicious, and Snape would report it directly to Dumbledore. There was no doubt in Riddle's mind Snape had been ordered by the Headmaster to keep an eye out for him.

But Riddle saw no other way. He had to go to Snape, so when the day's classes were over, he made his way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.

Tom was surprised to see Harry in one of the desks. He was silently doing homework, as Snape sat at the teacher's desk, most likely grading essays. Harry noticed Tom's presence before Snape, and gave a smile and a wave before returning to his homework.

"Mr. Riddle," Professor Snape's voice drawled out his name, "what can I do for you?"

"Professor Slughorn said you might be able to insist me in some independent studies." Riddle told Snape.

"Really?" said Snape, intensely. "What is this about?"

"Well, Sir," Riddle started, "I was wondering if there was a potion capable of tracing a person's ancestors."

"No, no that would be impossible for a potion to accomplish," Snape said instantly.

Riddle sighed, and his face fell again.

"There is a magical solution, however." Snape said.

Riddle was intrigued, and even Harry had doused away from his homework to listen to what Snape had to say.

"I believe that you are familiar with the practice of Occulmency?"

"Of course, sir," Riddle said.

"There is a part of Occulmency which allows us to excess forgotten parts of someone's memories."

Riddle shifted his weight. "Professor, I don't understand. What does forgotten memories have to do with finding ancestors?"

"Well," Snape started, "Everyone knows where they came from deep down, but it's just so buried. It makes it very difficult to excess this particular part of the brain."

Riddle found what he was looking for. He found a way to figure out the Potter mystery, and maybe once that was solved, he wouldn't be so distracted from his duty with the Chamber.

"Can you show me?" Riddle asked, a little too bluntly and quickly. He inwardly cursed himself. He might as well have went to Dumbledore and told him everything he was planning.

"Are you suggesting that I probe into a student's mind using advance Occulmency?" Snape's voice was firm, "that is against the law, Mr. Riddle."

"I'm sorry, Professor," mumbled Riddle. He hated apologizing, but it was necessary to be on Snape's good side. "I'm too curious for my own good."

To Riddle's relief, Snape merely smiled. "That is not a bad thing, necessarily. I may not be able to teach you the spell, but I know a book that can."

"Thank you, Professor."

"However, I need you to stay here and watch Mr. Potter while I fetch it." Snape said, giving Harry a firm glare, which caused the boy to get back to work.

Once Snape had left the classroom, Harry dropped his quilt, and stretched his hand. Riddle watched him, smirking.

"We met again, Harry Potter." Riddle said, "And under similar circumstances. What have you done now?"

"I believe Snape called it cheek," said Harry.

Tom laughed.

"But _I_ believe it's because Snape has this school aged vendetta against my father." Harry blurted out.

"That is very likely," Riddle agreed, "but you are not much like the Auror James Potter. Show him that, and Defense Against the Dark Arts will be a much easier subject for you."

"I don't understand," Harry confessed, giving Riddle a strange look.

"Just be respectful, even if you know he doesn't deserve it. Tell him what he wants to hear, and you will find that Snape is very easy to manipulate."

Harry was now looking at Riddle like he was a god. "Does this work with all the teachers?"

"Not just the teachers," Riddle explained, "it works with most everyone."

Harry was lost in thought, as was Riddle. Tom didn't know why he was telling his secrets to a twelve year old. He didn't like it. He didn't like that Harry now knew Riddle's game, but again he reminded himself that that wouldn't matter because Harry would be on his side. Hopefully.

"Tom?" Harry asked, "why do you want this mind probing thingy?"

Riddle smiled, "It is an Occulmency spell, and I thought it would be obvious to you why I need it. I need to see your ancestors, Harry. I need to know where you get your Parseltongue ability from."

"Yeah," said Harry, "I thought so. Everyone on my dad's side has been looking for clues, but no luck."

"Hopefully, this will shade some light, then." Riddle said, wondering if Professor Dumbledore was searching for answers as well.

Riddle's ears perked up. "Go back to work. Snape is almost back." It was said in nearly a whisper, and Riddle was right. A few seconds later, Snape returned carrying a dusty old book.

Tom told the Professor thanks once more after taking the book, and went happily on his way.

* * *

It was very late when Harry was finally allowed to leave detention. He had followed Riddle's advice about being respectful, and found that it actually worked. Who knows how much longer Snape would have keep up him there otherwise.

Harry was almost back at Gryffindor tower when he heard it.

"_Come…come to me…Let me rip you…Let me tear you…Let me kill you…" _

This voice frightened Harry so much that he ran all the way back to his dorm. He thought about waking Ron to tell him, but then decided against it. His friends were already suspicious about the talking to snakes, but now hearing haunting voices. That was too much.

Harry decided to ask Tom about it, as that student knew a lot more than most teachers, and wasn't nearly as judgmental. He would ask about it first thing tomorrow morning, just as soon as he got some rest.

* * *

Author's Note: Ok, so I've decided that Tom Riddle is very fun to write, so a lot of this story will be in his point of view.

Also, feedback still makes me happy.


	3. Hermione's Warning

DISCLAIMER: I sadly, do not own Harry Potter.

Chapter Three: Hermione's Warning

The Gryffindor breakfast table was bussing. Last night, Colin Creevey had been Petrified. It was starting to get everyone a little worried, but Harry was more disturbed than the rest. He didn't think hearing those voices, and the attack on Colin Creevey was at all a coincidence. It had to be related. Harry was going to find out how.

"Who would do such terrible things?" Hermione asked, getting to be pretty frightened herself, considering her parentage.

"I bet it's a Slytherin!" Ron exclaimed.

The Weasley twins looked at Ron like he was stupid. "They don't call him Slytherin's heir for nothing, Ron."

"Slytherin's heir doesn't have to be _in_ Slytherin," said Ally Potter, "remember what Uncle Sirius told us? His whole family was Slytherin, but he was put in Gryffindor."

Hermione nodded in agreement.

"But we're not talking about Uncle Sirius, unless he is somehow the heir of Slytherin," said Aydan, purposely disagreeing with his twin sister.

Harry zoned out of the argument. It was irrelevant to Harry who this mystical heir of Slytherin was. All Harry wanted to know was about the strange voices, and about his being able to speak to snakes.

"Harry," said Ally, "where are you going?" She had noticed her older Harry stand, without even touching his food.

"I have to talk to someone." Harry said, walking away from the table. The rest of them continued with their conversation, except Hermione and Ron, who followed Harry away from the table.

"Harry, wait," Hermione said, pulling Ron along by the arm. "Are you going to talk to this Tom Riddle guy?"

"Yes," said Harry, looking at Hermione strangely. "He is going to help me find out about this Parseltongue business."

"I know, you told us," Hermione said, "but I don't think that guy is, well _right_." This time Hermione received strange looks from both of the boys.

"What do you mean, Hermione?" Harry asked, "He is a Prefect, top of every class. He is no different than Percy."

"There's just something off about him," said Hermione, nudging Ron. "Don't you agree Ron?"

"I think he's brilliant," Ron admitted, "not at all like the other Slytherins."

"There's just one thing I want you to keep in mind, Harry." Hermione said, shrugging off Ron's comment, and getting back to being serious.

"Okay?"

"Why is Riddle so interested in _your_ ancestors? Why is he so interested in _you _at all?"

Hermione felt she had made her point, however, Harry didn't think this was a valid point at all. Harry knew why Tom was so interested, but he had promised not to tell anyone so Hermione could not know.

"Don't worry about it," Harry said, "I know what I'm doing." Hermione watched Harry stumble down the hallway, hoping that he was right.

For the third time, the basilisk had failed to kill, Colin Creevey and his stupid camera. It seemed that fate was not on Riddle's side. Riddle wanted nothing more than a simple kill, and that was getting more impossible with every failed attempt.

It was simply getting too risky. Tom couldn't be discovered as a dark wizard this early on. It would be impossible to ever gain any real power, and his plans for the future would be in ruins. Riddle would not allow that to happen, no matter what.

One more try, that's all he had. One more try to kill a Mudblood, and then he'd seal the Chamber, even if it wasn't a success. Too much was riding on this. The fact that Dumbledore seemed to be catching on made Tom increasingly nervous.

While he waited for the perfect moment, Riddle intensely studied the book Snape had given him. The teacher wasn't lying; the spell was very complicated, and advanced. It would take Tom at least a week to master it.

"Hey, Tom," Riddle looked up from his studying, delighted to see Harry, and not more of the more annoying kids who treated Riddle like a god.

"Hey," said Riddle, casually.

Harry took a seat at Riddle's table. "I have to ask you about something."

"Shoot," said Riddle, expecting it to be about homework, or something equally unimportant.

"I heard strange voices last night," said Harry, "Right before Colin was attacked. Do you think they could be related?"

Riddle, again, was finding taken off guard. Tom never thought about it before, but it made sense Harry would be hearing voices. He was a Parseltongue, and could hear the basilisk just as easily as Riddle could. Although, this brought more stress to Riddle's already stressful situation.

"Umm, perhaps," said Riddle, "I don't really know that much about these attacks. I've been working on the spell to find out you're heritage, you see."

"How's that going?" Harry asked, unknowingly falling into Riddle's trap to change to change the subject.

"Well," Riddle answered, smiling, "We should know your complete family tree by next week."

Harry grinned back. The thought of finding out more about his ancestors appealed to him, but not more than finding out the source of his Parseltongue trait.

"Well, then, I should be going," said Harry, feeling slightly disappointed that Tom didn't know more about the strange voices. Somehow, Harry was hoping that Tom had heard them too. Harry had turned to leave the table, when suddenly Riddle called back to him.

"Don't tell anyone about these voices," said Riddle urgently, "especially not Dumbledore." Riddle knew that if Dumbledore knew Harry was hearing voices, it wouldn't be long until the Headmaster would figure what beast the chamber held.

"Ok," Harry agreed, "why?"

"Hearing voices isn't a good sign," Riddle said, lightly. "and you don't want any extra attention from Dumbledore. Trust me."

"Alright, I won't tell anyone," Harry frowned slightly, and turned to leave, only to have Riddle call him back a second time.

"And don't worry," Tom assured him, feeling a little guilty for lying to him. "I'll do some research about it, but I'm sure it's nothing."

"Thanks, Tom," said Harry, this time he was able to walk away.

Riddle realized he'd have to think of a better lie, or else Potter might think he's going crazy. Or worse figure out that it's a serpent he's hearing. Harry finding out the Chamber's monster was not an option at that point.

It was like dominos falling. If Harry found out about the Basilisk, there was only one person that could be controlling it. Harry couldn't find out the truth yet. It was too soon. Riddle sighed, if only he had more time.

Author's Note: Ok, so the next will be better, I promise. I'm thinking this story will be 10 to 12 chapters long. Just a guess based on plotting I've been doing.

Thanks to those who reviewed! And as always, feedback makes me happy.

PS: I am writing a song. This song has no lyrics. Answering this question could help the song gain lyrics. --- How do you feel about GOD right now? (Tell the truth, even if you don't believe in God.)


	4. To See Impossible Things

DISCLAIMER: IdonotownHarryPotter.

Chapter Four: To See Impossible Things

"Is this going to hurt?" Harry asked Tom, jumping onto a table in an abandon classroom down in the dungeons. The lightening was bad, causing Harry's eyes to ache for daylight.

"It won't be pleasant." Tom answered, truthfully. He didn't know for sure, but Riddle couldn't imagine how someone digging through your thoughts wouldn't be unpleasant.

Tom grabbed another quick glance at the book, to make sure he had it right. The last thing he needed was to mess up the spell, and cause Harry brain damage. After he was done double-checking the spell, and turned around to face Harry, who was looking very pale indeed.

"You're nervous?" It wasn't a question. It was an observation made by a key observer.

Harry shook his head. "My friend Hermione doesn't think I should trust you. She said it was crazy to let you to enter my thoughts."

"And did you tell her I'm only trying to help?" Riddle sounded surprised, most people were fooled by the charm. Well, all except Dumbledore.

"She wouldn't listen," Harry replied, swinging his legs carelessly.

Tom's face turned into a dark expression. "She's Muggle born, isn't she?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Harry shot back quickly, a hint of anger rising on the edges of his voice. His legs had become still, and it had seemed to drop a few degrees in the classroom.

"I'm taking that as a yes," said Riddle, laughing, at the same time, remembering the girl's name.

"What's wrong with Muggle borns?" Harry demanded. He glared at Riddle now, wondering while Hermione was right all along about Tom.

"This isn't the time, or place for that conversation," Tom replied, and Harry looked back questioningly, although he didn't dare to say more on the subject.

Tom circled around the table where Harry sat; he stopped, and pulled on his wand. "Lay down."

Harry did as he was told, and once he was in a laying down position, Riddle muttered a few words Harry didn't catch. Next thing Harry knew blue, misty restraints formed around Harry's wrists.

"Hey," Harry half shouted, trying to get free. "Let me go."

"Be quiet," Riddle insisted harshly, and slightly frustrated. "The restraints are necessary. I can't have you shifting around while I'm casting, can I?"

Harry became silent, but frowned. He did not like trusting in Riddle so much, and he was beginning to have a very bad feeling the whole thing.

It was too late now to say anything now, as Riddle was screwing up his face in concentration. Harry thought of crying out, of telling Riddle that he wasn't ready, but it was too late, Riddle had pointed his wand directly at Harry's forehead.

After that, all Harry could remember was intense pain. His head was bursting open. He opened his mouth to scream, but couldn't make a sound. It was either that he couldn't make a sound, or he just couldn't hear the sounds he was making. He screamed until his world went black.

Riddle was seeing things. Impossible things. Harry's ancestors… it was impossible. Could the Mudblood be a descendant of Slytherin? It was impossible.

He knew he had to break the spell. He heard Harry's desperate screaming, but as though it was miles away. Riddle could make out some words like, "stop" and "please."

Once Riddle was satisfied with the information he received, he broke the spell, and his normal vision came back to him immediately. Riddle's eyes scanned over Harry who lied on the table unconscious, and sweat-drenched.

Tom hadn't expected it to be that painful. If he had, he would he put something over the boy's mouth as well, to silent the screaming. Lucky, they were deep in the dungeon, and Riddle sensed no one coming. With a lazy flick of the wand, Riddle released the restraints of Harry. Now there was the problem of waking him up.

But Tom was very hesitant to wake him, fearing that if he did, Harry would likely be in very much pain. He hated it, but he knew what he had to do. He had to take Harry to the hospital wing.

Carefully, he lifted the boy and began his walk up to the fourth floor. He got all kinds of stares, and a few teachers asked him what he was doing. When he finally at the hospital wing, Riddle made up some lame lie about Harry fainting while they were practicing dueling.

The incident inspired Tom with more unwanted attention that he already received on a daily bases. Although, all of that annoying and useless attention was well worth the information he gained.

It would seem that Tom Riddle wasn't the only Heir of Slytherin. It would also seem that Lily Evans was just as much a Muggle born as Draco Malfoy was.

Author's Note: Sorry so short. I'm trying to get this thing written before school starts back up. I'll probably up able to put one more chapter quickly, ever that, it'll probably take up to a week for me to update.


	5. Word of Advice

DISCLAIMER: Stilldonotownharrypotter.

Chapter Five: Word of Advice

Harry woke up with a terrible headache. It took him several moments to realize that he was in the hospital wing. It took him even longer to remember the reason he was there. That spell was more than unpleasant; it was more like horrible, unbearable pain.

Harry frowned as the last thing he remembered was crying out for Tom to make it stop, crying out for him to stop the pain, but the pain just continued. He was sure Tom had a good explanation. Maybe it just seemed like the pain lasted forever, when it really only lasted a couple of seconds.

He shifted in the uncomfortable bed, checking if Tom was in the room, but he wasn't there. No one was, besides the Petrified bodies of Colin and Justin, and that was very comforting company at all. Harry gave a glance to the clock on the wall. It read 3:03 AM. Sighing, Harry realized he'd have to wait hours until he could figure out what Tom had discovered about his family.

_"…so hungry…so long…"_

Harry jumped out of his bed, terrified, and searching the room for anything that could have made that voice. He even gave Justin and Colin a look over, as if they weren't really Petrified at all, and playing a very elaborate joke on Harry. In the end, Harry found nothing.

Convinced that there wasn't a monster in the hospital wing, Harry sat cross-legged on his temporary bed, playing with his thumbs, waiting and listening for the haunting voice again.

_"…I smell blood… I SMELL BLOOD!"_

This time, instead of jumping in freight, Harry was ready. He stayed on his bed, and scanned his surroundings. His heart raced, as he was half expecting something to jump out at him. But again nothing happened. He waited a few more minutes, before yawning, and lying back down.

Harry was only allowed to rest for about ten minutes before he was awaken up by the sound of rushed footsteps coming into the hospital wing. He kept his eyes closed, and pretended he was still asleep.

"Go get Madam Pomfrey," whispered a voice with a mixture of worry and tiredness, a voice that Harry recognized as Professor Dumbledore.

"What happened?" Harry heard Madam Pomfrey whisper to Dumbledore, and Harry figured they were standing about three beds away from him.

"Another attack," said Dumbledore. "Minerva found her on the stairs."

"We think she was trying to sneak up here to visit Potter," said Professor McGonagall.

Harry felt his stomach drop. It couldn't be, Harry refused to believe that the latest victim of the monster was a friend of his, especially one of his best friends, even though he knew deep down, that the person they were talking about was none other than Hermione Granger.

"Petrified?" whispered Madam Pomfrey.

"Yes," said Professor McGonagall, "But I shudder to think… If Albus hadn't been on his on the way downstairs for hot chocolate – who knows what might have happened."

"What does this _mean_, Albus?" Madam Pomfrey asked in a most urgent whisper.

"It means," said Dumbledore, "that the Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened."

Harry heard Madam Pomfrey clapped a hand to her mouth, and Professor McGonagall shudder.

"But, Albus…surely…who?"

Dumbledore said nothing else. Harry imagined he was shaking his head, or using some kind of other physical communication.

Harry heard the footstep leave, almost as quickly as they came. Once he was sure the coast was clear, he very slowly raised his head off the bed, looking to see for himself who the victim was.

His fears were confirmed once he saw her bushy hair. After that, nothing else mattered. Hermione had been attack, and Petrified, and Harry knew what he had to do. He was going to find who this Heir of Slytherin, make them pay, and then go after their stupid pet monster. Harry fell into an angered sleep of tossing and turning, and filled with dreams of confronting the Heir of Slytherin. It was barely daylight when Harry was awoken for the third time that night.

"Harry," someone was whispering, and shaking him lightly on the shoulder. "Harry." Harry opened his eyes, and the person came into focus. Tom was kneeling beside his bed.

"Tom?" Harry, said sitting up, and rubbing his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Just making sure you are all right," he said, sitting in the chair beside Harry's bed. "I wasn't expecting for the spell to have that kind of effect on you."

"Don't worry about it. I'm fine," said Harry, his eyes fell back over the statue form of one of his best friends. "Hermione isn't, though. Last night, she was Petrified."

"Really?" Tom's head jerked around to see Hermione, "that's a shame…" A few minutes of silence followed.

"Did you find out about my family?" Harry asked, remembering that this was the whole reason he had ended up in the hospital wing.

"Yes, I did," Tom said, grinning.

Harry felt a rush of excitement, his pain was about to be paid off. "Well what did you find?"

"I can't tell you here," said Riddle, looking all around. "It's very…delicate information. If certain people found out, well, I don't really know _what_ would happen, but it wouldn't be good."

Harry frowned, disappointed, and although he knew Tom wouldn't withhold the information unless he most defiantly had too.

"Okay," said Harry, "Then when can you tell me?"

"Come find me after you're out of here," Riddle leaned in, and whispered the last part just as Professor Dumbledore came striding in. "by the second floor girl's bathroom." Tom stood up as Dumbledore approached them, and turned to face the Headmaster.

"Good morning, Mr. Riddle," said Dumbledore, "what are you doing up this early?"

"I was just checking up on Harry," said Riddle.

"Very well," Dumbledore said, briskly, walking past Tom, and straight towards Harry. Behind the Headmaster's back, Riddle flashed Harry a thumbs up, and grinned, before leaving the hospital wing.

"Good morning, Harry," Dumbledore said, in a more cheerful voice than he used with Tom.

"Good morning, Headmaster," Harry replied, yawning.

"You took quite a hit yesterday," Dumbledore said, "care to explain what happened?" Harry's mind raced. He had no idea what Riddle had told them therefore, Harry had no idea on what to lie about.

"You know I don't really remember," Harry said, telling a half truth. "Perhaps you should ask a bystander."

Dumbledore gave Harry a piercing stare, making Harry want to turn away, but he knew he couldn't do that. He had watched Tom talk to Dumbledore before, and never once did Tom look away.

"Is there something you wish to tell me, Harry?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, Sir, nothing," said Harry as innocently as possible.

Sure, he wanted to tell the Headmaster about the voices he heard right before both attacks, he wanted to tell Dumbledore that Riddle knew where Harry had inherited his Parseltongue trait, and he wanted to tell him everything. But he remembered Tom, and his theories of Dumbledore being untrustworthy so Harry kept his mouth shut.

"Very well," said Dumbledore, in the same brisk tone he had just used with Tom. "Have a good day Harry, and I have one word of advice to you: choose your friends wisely, Harry."

Harry glared at Dumbledore as he walked from the hospital wing. He was clearly talking about Riddle, but Harry felt Dumbledore had no right to tell him who to be friends with.

After all, Harry couldn't see why Dumbledore and Hermione mistrusted Riddle so much. With Harry, he always seemed most kind, with exception to the time he talked about Muggle borns. Even with that, Harry knew Tom Riddle was one of the nicest people he had ever met.

%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%*%

Author's Note: This quote has nothing to do with this story, but I'm posting it anyways, because I think it's awesome.

"_Then we will see __**tears**__ converted into __**laughter**__ as people beat their __**swords **__into __**plowshares**__ and weld their __**machine guns**__ into __**saxophones**__, and as police officers use their __**billy clubs **__to play __**baseball**__." _– Shane Claiborne

PS: Thanks for the reviews, you're awesome.


	6. Riddle Revealed

Author Note: I'm not going to write out the whole article about the Basilisk. We all know what it says, so there's no point in writing it.

Disclaimer: Own Harry Potter, I do not.

Chapter Six: Riddle Revealed

Riddle carelessly walked down the staircase, smiling pleasantly. For once, everything was going as planned. Hermione was Petrified, he had all the information on Harry that he needed, and there was only one thing left to do. He needed a scapegoat, someone to take the fall.

His last try was up. Dumbledore was talking about closing the school if the attacks didn't stop, and the person behind them wasn't brought to justice soon. Tom couldn't have that happen.

He needed someone to take the fall, and he needed that someone fast. Time was winding down, as Riddle had already set everything into play. In a couple of hours, Harry would be released from the hospital wing with every intention of finding the Heir of Slytherin.

Riddle realized his mistake. He should have already found his scapegoat before he opened the Chamber. It would have made everything a whole lot easier.

He got to the schoolyard, which was packed with students. It was the first nice day of spring, and most of the students were taking advantage of the returning sunshine.

Tom closed his eyes, telling himself that the first person he saw would become known as the Heir of Slytherin to the rest of the wizarding world. He opened his eyes, and narrowed on a rather a rounded, dark haired Gryffindor second year.

Perfect.

Later that same day, Harry was released from the hospital wing, but before leaving he had to get one last look at Hermione, as if he were saying goodbye. As he approached her bed, he noticed a small object clutched in her hands. Carefully he tugged in away from her grip.

It was a small mirror. Harry turned it around in his hands. There was nothing special about it, besides the fact that Hermione was the least likely of people to have a mirror out, maybe a book, but not a mirror. He pocketed the mirror, just in case it had importance.

In her other hand, Harry noticed a crumpled up piece of paper. He took it, and smoothed it out. It was clear that the paper had been torn out of a book. Harry saw a picture of a great serpent on it. He read it, and when he was finished his eyes widened. Everything seemed to fall in place.

A basilisk was the Chamber's monster. It made perfect sense. No one had died, because no one had looked the thing directly in the eyes. Pure luck. That was the scary part, the intent was to kill. The Basilisk was a snake, and Harry realized that that was the reason he was hearing voices. Only one thing didn't make sense, if Tom could speak to snakes, why didn't he hear the voices, too? Riddle had obviously lied.

Harry frowned. Why had Tom lied about something as little as that, when was completely honest with Harry about being a Parseltongue? It didn't make sense. The only possible way it would make sense was if Riddle was the Heir of Slytherin.

That was impossible. Kind and clever Tom Riddle couldn't be behind the attacks. But the more Harry thought about it the more it made sense. Why else would Dumbledore not trust him? Why else would he lie to Harry about the voices? And in the dungeon, all that talk about Muggle-borns.

Harry stormed out of the hospital in a passionate rage. He had led Riddle right to Hermione! How could he be so stupid? And now the Heir of Slytherin knew more about Harry's heritage than Harry did.

"Harry, there you are," Harry must have jumped a mile, surprised by his little brother.

Aydan gave his brother a skeptical look. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Aydan," said Harry, trying not to let on to the anger. The thing Aydan needed to know was that Harry was going after Slytherin's heir.

"Well, Ron told me that if I saw you…" Aydan never got to finish his sentence. Harry grabbed him by the shoulders, plagued with Hermione would say if she knew what Harry were up to. He most defiantly needed someone watching close by, someone that knew where Harry was.

"I need you to do me a favor." Harry said, intensely.

"I can't," Aydan whined, "I'm supposed to meet Ally and Ginny in courtyard."

Harry sighed, angrily. How was he supposed to make him understand this without telling him too much?

"Listen to me," Harry said, "this is more important than that!" He nearly shouted at Aydan, who now looked at Harry like he was a madman.

"Fine," Aydan said, crossing his arms, "you don't have to yell."

Harry ignored the last part of his brother's comment. "I need you to follow me, but without staying to close, and if everything funny happens, or if I go somewhere and I'm gone for a long time, I need you to go get an adult. Preferably Dumbledore."

Aydan was forced to give his big brother another weird look. "What's going on?"

"Now isn't the time for questions," said Harry, walking away, beckoning for Aydan to follow him.

Harry headed down to the second floor bathroom, with Aydan staying far behind. Once he got there, Harry saw nothing. Riddle wasn't where he had said he'd be. Then it occurred to Harry that Riddle could have meant inside of the girls bathroom.

Harry looked around to make sure no one was watching, and when the coast was clear, he stepped into the girl's bathroom. He found what he was looking for, inside the sink, there was a letter addressed to Harry in green ink.

Outside of the bathroom, Aydan paced back and forth. It had been fifteen minutes since he saw his brother go into the bathroom. He may not have known what was going on, but he knew enough to know Harry was in trouble. Gathering courage, Aydan also made his way to the bathroom. He opened the door, but no one was there.

"Harry?" Aydan called, but no one answered. "Harry, come on. This isn't funny."

Aydan began to search the bathroom more efficiently and when he still found nothing he began to panic. The door opened, and Ally and Ginny just stared at him, giggling, completely unaware that Harry could be in danger.

"Aydan?" Ally asked, once they both stopped laughing. "What are you doing in here?"

But Aydan didn't answer her question. "Harry's in trouble. We need to find Dumbledore right away."

Author's Note: Hmm, I'm not sure I have anything to say except this.

Stir it up in our hearts, Lord. Passion for your name!... it's a very good song.


	7. Insane, or Brilliant?

Disclaimer: I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER, OKAY?

Chapter Seven: Insane or brilliant?

Riddle was growing impatient. How long could it take Potter to find them? He had left almost precise directions, after all. Tom had left very clear tracks, and he knew it was only a matter of time until Harry would stumble into the Chamber. Until then, all there was to do was wait.

His eyes fell on the unconscious form of Neville Longbottom. Riddle had always hated that boy, besides the fact he was a pureblood, he was incredibly foolish, always forgetting things, and always blowing up something trying to perform the simplest of spells. Neville was an insult to purebloods.

Tom hoped that this would clean up the mess Longbottom made out of a pureblood name. Neville would get the glory for opening the Chamber of Secrets, Riddle wouldn't be expelled, and Hogwarts wouldn't have to close. Everyone wins.

The only problem with using Neville as the scapegoat was that anyone with a brain in them would realize Neville Longbottom wasn't nearly skilled enough to do something like this. The only thing to do was rely on people's nature to believe what they want to believe, and no one _wanted_ to believe that the Heir of Slytherin was the kind, charming, and brilliant orphan Tom Riddle.

The ground underneath Neville creaked as the boy opened his eyes weakly and stared back at Riddle. "You'll…never…get away…with this." He struggled to speak.

"I already have," said Riddle, surprised that after all the torture spells he'd been practicing on Longbottom, the boy was still able to speak at all.

"_Crucio_!" Riddle hissed, and grinned as Neville withered on the floor in pain. "Go ahead, scream all you want, no one can hear you down here!"

The echoing of pounding footsteps filled Riddle's ears, and so he broke the curse, watching as Harry ran down the long hall. He collapsed by Neville, who was passed out again.

On his knees, Harry shook the Longbottom boy. "Neville, Neville wake up!"

"He won't wake," said Riddle darkly.

Harry acknowledged Tom for the first time since he stepped foot in the Chamber. He angrily stood up. "You killed him, like you tried to kill Hermione!"

Riddle rolled his eyes. He didn't have time to deal with such childish accusations, but if Harry were to be on his side, he'd have to explain himself.

"Longbottom is not dead," Riddle said, "and Hermione isn't either. You should be on your knees thanking me. I'm allowing them both to live."

"_Allowing_ them to live?" Harry questioned, outraged. "And I suppose we should all bow to you, too, O great master of death." Potter mocked, but Riddle didn't see what was funny about that idea.

"Someday," Tom answered, as serious as could be.

"You're insane," Harry said.

"Insane or brilliant?" Riddle questioned back. He started to move closer to where Harry stood over Neville.

"Stay away from me!" Harry ordered, pulling out his wand, and pointing it straight at Riddle.

"Don't be foolish, Potter," said Riddle, still smiling. He had to admit, Harry had guts. "You wouldn't come out of here alive if we get wands out."

Harry glared at Riddle, but lowered his wand, planning on catching Riddle at a different time. He wasn't stupid. Harry knew that Riddle had to be tons more experienced at dueling than he was, and Neville lying on the floor was enough proof of that. All Harry had to do was keep him talking.

"Good," said Riddle, and he begun to approach Harry once more, this time, with no interruptions.

"Why are you doing all this?" Harry asked, buying time. He knew Aydan had gone for help by now.

"Didn't you get it?" Riddle asked back sharply, "I'm the Heir of Slytherin, why _wouldn't_ I be doing all this?"

"You're not doing a very good job," said Harry. "No one has died. Pretty soon the Mandrakes will be ready, and everyone who has been Petrified will be set right."

"Haven't I told you?" Riddle asked in a surprisingly cheerful voice. "The attack on Hermione was a set up."

Harry stared at Riddle blankly, causing Riddle to laugh.

"I knew that if something happened to your friend you wouldn't be able to resist getting revenge. I knew that you would come after me, even if you didn't know it was me at the time. I knew this, because you are very much like me."

Harry wrinkled his forehead, and muttered, "I am nothing like you, and either way, Hermione still got the best of you. She discovered the Basilisk."

"Wrong again," Riddle smirked, "I wanted you to come here. I wanted you to know about me, so before I woke you yesterday in the hospital wing, I planted the mirror and the article in Hermione's hands."

"That doesn't make sense," said Harry. "If you wanted me to know so badly, why didn't you just tell me yourself?"

"Because I thought you would take it badly," Riddle said, simply, "the last thing we needed was for you to make a scene and tell all of Hogwarts who the Heir of Slytherin is. Down here, no one can hear you."

"You monster," Harry nearly whispered, "The only reason you didn't kill Hermione was because you didn't want to make a scene."

"Finally you are right," Riddle said, "That Mudblood deserves to die. She tried to turn you against me, against family…"

This was perhaps the most interesting thing Riddle had said all night. At least to Harry, he couldn't care less about Riddle's little games.

"What do you mean?"

"Imagine my surprise when I found out that I wasn't the only Heir of Slytherin after all," Riddle explained. "There are actually four, all in Hogwarts at the same time."

"Four?" Harry questioned, starting to worry. One Slytherin's heir was bad enough, but now there were four?

"It seems your mother was never a Mudblood," Riddle continued, "She was adopted as a baby. Her _real_ parents were direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin himself."

That was impossible. His mother was in Gryffindor. She was the nicest person on the face of the earth.

"You lair!" Harry shouted.

"You're my cousin, Harry," Riddle pretended he hadn't heard Harry's latest outburst, "and together we're going to do great things."

Harry shook his head in anger, if Riddle was saying they would great things, Harry knew that it translated into _terrible_ things. He knew that Riddle meant genocide.

"Even if we are related," Harry said, bravely. "I'm not going to join you're cause. I'm not going to help in a mass murder." Neville began to make noises again, and Riddle looked down at him, showing a twisted grin.

"I'm sorry," said Riddle, sarcastically, "I wasn't under the impression I had given you a choice."

Author's Notes

**Feedback makes me happy.**

Thank you from those of you who have reviewed.

This has nothing to do with this story besides the fact that I was listening to it over and over while writing this chapter.

"_All who are thirsty, all who are weak, come to the fountain. And we sing, come Lord Jesus, come."_ – A very good song written by Mr. Brenton Brown.


	8. The Cycle Down

I don't own Harry Potter.

Chapter Eight: The Cycle Down

Harry couldn't believe what he was hearing. Of course he had a choice! Even if it meant the death of him, he had a choice. Tom Riddle might have been a magical prodigy, but he hadn't gained the power to take away the most important birthright a person has.

Neville made moaning noises, and soon he would be back, fully conscious.

Harry titled his head towards the pathetic form of Longbottom. "What's he going here? What's he got to do with anything?"

"I thought that was fairly obviously," Riddle spoke, coldly. "He opened the Chamber of Secrets." Harry narrowed in on Riddle, who showed no sign of laughing, or anything else of the sort to prove he was joking. Tom remained expressionless, as if he were delivering the truth.

"No one will buy that," Harry snapped, "Dumbledore already sees right through you!"

"I know," said Tom, thoughtfully, "but he'll have no choice but to believe the _both_ of us, and once I've modified Neville's memory…"

"I already told you that I'm not going to help you," Harry said, beginning to get tired of repeating himself.

"And I already told you it's not an option!" Riddle said, "Unless you want the early death of your beloved little sister."

Harry flinched angrily. How dare he bring his family into this! How dare Riddle threaten his sister!

"I don't recall ever telling you I have a sister, Riddle," said Harry, controlling his voice, but edges of anger and fear could still be heard.

"You might as well have," Riddle said, "you allowed me to enter your mind willingly. You should have taken that stupid Mudblood's advice. I know all about you, now."

Harry was speechless. It would seem he was the cause of his own doom, and his family's. Riddle came closer, his hand on his wand inside his robes, and for a moment, he thought Riddle was going to curse.

"You will watch them all die, Potter," Riddle threatened, "Starting here with Longbottom. I'll kill them all right in front of you, and they will die knowing it was entirely _your_ fault."

Riddle's vicious voice sunk in, and Harry wanted to do something. He wanted to attack. He couldn't. He wouldn't survive the duel, and so then, neither would his family.

"I'm not afraid of you," Harry buffed, trying to make himself look a little bigger than he really was.

Tom laughed, and it echoed off the Chamber wall, sending chills down Harry's spine. "You can't lie to me."

Harry blanked, trying to break Riddle's eye contact. He knew nothing about Occulmency, but he knew eye contact was the key. Harry's head turned to the ground.

"Enough!" Riddle suddenly yelled, "I've given you long enough to make your decision. Chose. Get on your knees to show your loyalty to me or watch Neville die!"

While it was becoming more and more clear to Harry that Riddle was a psychopath, it was also becoming clear that Harry was so close to having to join him. He gave a glance at Neville, who had gained enough strength to look back. Harry couldn't do it. He couldn't watch Riddle kill his friend.

"No…" it was quite, but still heard by Harry and Riddle. Neville had saw Harry almost give in. He had almost dropped to his knees. "Don't let him get you."

"BE SILENT!" Riddle roared. He, too, had seen Harry was about to give in. Tom raised his wand high in the air, but he never got the chance to cast a spell. Behind him, Harry had sent a stunner with his own wand. The only affect it had on Riddle was making him turn his wrath to Harry, instead of Neville.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Riddle shouted, and then there was nothing more Harry could do, except watch his wand fly right into Riddle's hands. "You made the wrong choice, Potter." Harry watched helplessly as Riddle slide his wand into his robes.

Riddle turned around to do what he had promised he'd do. In a quick motion, Riddle pointed his wand at Neville once more, and cried, _"Crucio!"_

Neville rolled on the ground screaming for Harry. "DO SOMETHING…" He cried. "MAKE HIM STOP! PLEASE HARRY, DO SOMETHING!"

Harry closed his eyes, unable to see any more of this. This made it worse, because now he saw Riddle torturing his sister. He shut his eyes more tightly, and saw his brother rolling on the ground in pain. It was too much. When he opened his eyes again, the screaming had stopped, and Neville lied still and silent on the floor. He wasn't yet dead, but unconscious again.

Then Riddle raised his wand high in air, like he had before. This would be the end for Neville, and Harry realized if he let his friend die, he might as well let his family die. Just as Riddle was about to mutter the curse, Harry collapsed to the ground.

"Please don't," Harry despised himself as he was there, kneeling and begging to Heir of Slytherin, where ten seconds ago he had said he never would. "You win, I'll help you."

Riddle gave a curious look at Harry, and then back at Neville before approaching Harry. "I should kill him anyway. You had made your decision. I'm not usually one for second chances."

"I'm sorry," Harry said, defeated, his head pointed at the ground again.

"No, you're not," Riddle said, standing above Harry. "You hate me. You chose to attack me, instead of that fool! How many times do I have to tell you that you can't lie to me? I always know."

Harry didn't say anything else. He felt that saying something more would only make Riddle even angrier, if that was possible. Without any warning, Harry's wand fell back into his lap.

Harry looked up at Riddle, who smiled twistedly. "Get up; I want to teach you something." He got to his feet with a heavy feeling in his stomach and his wand loosely in his hands.

"I believe you've seen the Cruciatus curse?" Riddle asked.

"Yes," Harry said dryly. He didn't like where that conversation was going.

"I want you to attempt to cast it," said Riddle, smirking. It was hard to figure out what Riddle was telling him to do, looking at the only other person in the room.

"You want me to torture my friend?" Harry questioned, still quietly, and keeping anger from his voice.

"Learning this curse is the least you can do to prove your loyalty," said Riddle, coldly. "After trying to attack me." Harry gave another look to Longbottom. "The decision again, lies in your hands. You give him pain, or I'll give him death. This time there will be no second chances if you chose incorrectly."

Riddle walked behind Harry, and to the other side of him. Harry knew what he had to do. He pointed his wand, his arm shaking very badly.

"_Crucio!"_ Harry said, not as forcefully as Riddle had. Neville did not scream this time, but rather twitched. The pain was obviously less intense than that of Riddle's Crucio.

Harry was forced to break the curse after about ten seconds, because his own energy was being wiped out. He stood, but the room around him was spinning.

"Very good," said Riddle, approvingly.

"I'll be sent to Azkaban for that…" Harry was now in a daze. All he wanted was to sleep, but they were nowhere near being able to rest at the moment.

Riddle frowned, and placed a hand on Harry's should, causing him to collapse to his knees under the weight.

"Don't worry," said Riddle, "it's all taken care of."

Harry nodded. For some reason, Harry trusted him. Maybe it was because he was too tired to know better.

"In fact, I can take it from here," Riddle said, "You are very tired. Would you like to rest?"

"Yes, please…" And before Harry could even yawn again, he fell completely to the floor, in a deep sleep.

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Author's Note: Ughh, school is crazy, and I'm feeling very undriven, so sorry if this one was not as good as the last ones.

Thanks to reviewers. Again, you guys are awesome.

PS: Chapter title based off a really ckool song by Skillet called "Cycle Down"


	9. Deeper and Deeper

Chapter Nine: Deeper and Deeper

_Three Months Later_

Harry had decided that the right word was annoying. He couldn't imagine those days when he saw her as anything else but annoying. It was her constant hand shooting into the air whenever a teacher asked a question. It was the way she was always right. Over the last three months, the words Hermione and annoying became interchangeable.

"No, no," Hermione told Ron, gesturing to the way Ron moved his wand. "It's like this." She performed the charm correctly, with an overconfident smirk on her face.

Harry felt like screaming. He was so quick to anger those days, but he managed to control it.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, "Are you okay? You seem a little off?"

"I'm fine," Harry mumbled, quietly wondering how many times she would ask him this. The total had climbed into the hundreds just this past week. He had always given her the same answer, so why didn't she just stop asking?

Hermione and Ron exchanged worried glances.

"What?" Harry asked, getting rather loud. "If you have something to say, just say it!"

The both of them were startled by Harry's response. Although he had been increasingly dark and depressed lately, Harry had never snapped at them that way before.

"It's just that Ron and I are starting to worry about you," said Hermione, sincerely. "You haven't been yourself."

Harry turned his attention to Ron, daring him to agree with her.

"She's right, mate," Ron said, "Last night, I saw that you were up studying!"

"We're at school, remember?" Harry stated, "And we only have one week until exams."

"When have you ever cared about studying?" Hermione asked, a little too quickly.

"You think you're the only one who can get good grades?" Harry felt himself start to lose it.

"No," said Hermione, turning red, "it's just…" She never finished the sentence, and it's a good thing she didn't. If she had, Harry might have ended up cursing her.

"It's not just the studying," Ron butt in, "We hardly see except during class, and bedtime. Merlin, Harry, you don't even wear glasses anymore!"

"I told you that I don't need them anymore," Harry explained, harshly. This was only about the millionth time he had to say it.

"That's not the point," Hermione spoke up again, "Something happened that night in the Chamber, and you haven't been the same since. I don't buy the story you and Riddle have been dishing out for one second."

This was what Harry was afraid of. These were dangerous thoughts his friends had. Why did they question it? Didn't they appreciate his sacrifice? His suffering was for their sake. Harry lied to them for their sake. If they knew the truth, Riddle would kill them, or worse.

"You're calling me a liar." Harry stated, coldly. He gave a glance to Ron, examining to see if he felt the same way.

"It does seem weird," Ron said, "I mean, Neville never so much as managed to cast a regular spell correctly let alone any powerful dark magic."

"I didn't lie," said Harry. "Now knowing who the culprit was, it's no wonder all the attempts to kill Mudbloods failed."

Hermione turned paled, and Ron looked at Harry as if he had said something awful. Then Harry realized his mistake. All that time spent hearing Riddle talk had finally gotten to him.

"I meant Muggleborns!"

His friends didn't lift their questioning gaze.

"Fine, don't believe me about the Chamber," Harry said, angrily. "But why would I lie and say one of my friends did it when they didn't? Why would I do that to Neville, unless you think that_ I'm_ the Heir of Slytherin?"

This wasn't an uncommon theory at all. Many believed that Harry had framed Neville, and somehow tricked Riddle. However, Harry thought his own friends knew him better than that.

"We don't think that for a second," Hermione assured.

"Lair!" Harry's voice was raised loud enough so if got the whole class's attention. Harry turned back to Ron. "I don't have to put up with this."

With this, Harry walked straight out of Charms. Professor Flitwick yelled for him to come back, but Harry ignored them.

Harry wasn't stupid. He knew Hermione and Ron didn't really think it was him who was trying to kill everyone. He knew that they were smart enough to figure out what was really going on, and it was too dangerous for them to say it aloud. Harry didn't know what Riddle would do.

He spent the rest of his day sitting in the library, doing nothing of real importance. It was likely that he'd get into trouble with Riddle and the school for skipping out on classes, but he didn't care. After three months of studying, working, and lying, Harry felt he needed a day off.

Of course the lying wasn't the hardest part. At first, when Harry woke up in the hospital wing for the second time, he worried his story wouldn't match up with what Riddle had told them about the Chamber. However, whenever Harry was asked a question, it was as if Harry had been brainwashed. He answered them with all accuracy to what Riddle had said without the two of them even talking about the questioning.

Neville, on the other hand, had awoken without the slightest bit of knowledge of what happened that night. He was immediately taken to an Azkaban holding cell until he stood trial for a crime he had no memory of. Frank and Alice Longbottom had refused to believe their son was trying to kill Muggleborns; of course, the parent's testimony was almost immediately tossed aside.

Eventually, after a month of deliberation, Neville was found guilty. However, by that time, his parents had miraculously rescued their son, and fled the country. They were last seen in Spain.

Harry never stopped feeling guilty about the whole thing. It was entirely his fault. He messed up once by letting Riddle perform the awful mind probing spell on him, and then that led to torturing Neville, which led to many other things as Riddle had begun to use Harry's torture of Neville against him as well. The rest of Harry's days seemed hopeless, as he was constantly digging himself in deeper and deeper.

Author's Note: Ok, this didn't explain a lot of what happened, but the next chapter will. I took a pretty big jump, just because I couldn't think of any other ways to write it. Next chapter will be entirely Riddle, a Riddle and Dumbledore scene included. Like I said, it will explain what happened outside of the Chamber during the incident, and what happened directly afterwards.

Thanks to my reviewers!

Also I have five to six more chapters of this to write/revise. It seems this story went fast. My mind is already plotting a sequel. What does everyone think of that? Sequel or no sequel?


	10. Flaw

_Disclaimer: In my dreams._

Chapter Ten: Flaw

Riddle hated his little meetings with Dumbledore. For whatever reason, the Headmaster liked to randomly call him up to the office. It was a fool's attempt of watching over his activities, and so far, Dumbledore was failing.

He climbed the stairs, remembering Harry for the first time. Harry had been an impressive child, unlike now, with the energy and life drained from him. Riddle considered that he might have made a mistake of _forcing_ him into the Dark Arts. There was no other way, given a choice and the boy wouldn't cooperate. Riddle sighed, wondering if there was a happy medium between force and choice.

The door to the Headmaster's office suddenly swung open. Riddle didn't flinch, but only gave it a blank stare.

"You may enter, Tom," said the usual old voice.

Riddle obliged, silently cursing Dumbledore, who had mistakenly told _him _when he can enter. The only thing keeping Riddle from correcting Dumbledore was the thought that someday it would him he giving the orders. Riddle smiled.

The office looked the same as it had the last time Riddle was there. Completely messy, unorganized, as Dumbledore was. The Headmaster sat on the other side of the desk, his hands clasped together, and frowning. Riddle took the seat opposite of him, and waited for Dumbledore to speak first.

"Good evening, Tom," said Dumbledore, trying to make small talk.

"Yes, I am very busy," Riddle said, "So if we could get to the point."

He didn't mean to be so blunt, so openly rude with the Headmaster. It was a mistake. Riddle seemed to be making a lot of those lately. He had yet to find the source of the problem, but for some reason he was finding himself frustrated, and lost control of his emotions too easily, something that he usually had great control over.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Very well, I have called you here to talk with you about your new… _friend_."

Riddle knew where this was going, but he wasn't going to play it that way. "My friend?"

"Yes, it seems that you and Mr. Harry Potter have grown close, since you _rescued_ him from the Chamber." By Dumbledore's tone, it was clear he didn't believe that Tom and Harry were friends, and he really didn't believe that Riddle was the hero in the Chamber situation.

"As expected," Riddle replied, dully. "One usually likes the one who saves your life."

Dumbledore made an odd noise. "I suppose so. You have noticed though, that Harry hasn't been himself lately. I've gotten notes from varies teachers here at school, and it seems his parents are worried as well."

"I see," said Riddle.

"Do you happen to know if there is anything bothering him?" Dumbledore asked.

Riddle paused a moment, allowing time to pass so that Dumbledore at least thought he was thinking about it. "Nope, I can't think of anything."

"Very well," said Dumbledore, "I'm sure that whatever is bothering Harry will be taken care of soon. He comes from a family and a support system of very devoted people, much like Neville Longbottom. I'd hate to see what would happen if some were to seriously disturb Harry…"

It was very well done, but it didn't scare Riddle any.

"Just look at what happened to the Basilisk."

However this statement did have some implications on it.

"What do you mean?" Riddle asked, almost a little too harshly.

"Well, if it wasn't for Aydan coming to get me as soon as Neville took Harry into the Chamber, we would have never been able to find and destroy the monster within."

Riddle's heart raced. That couldn't be true. The Basilisk was dead? The Chamber was no longer? He only wanted to seal it for a short time; he never thought it would be final.

"Are you okay, Tom?" Dumbledore said, pretending to be concerned. "Maybe you should go to the hospital wing?"

"Perhaps you are right," said Riddle, using the excuse to leave before his anger exploded on the spot, and he lost all that he had worked so hard to gain. "Good night, Headmaster."

With that Riddle left the office, feeling as though he had lost after all. What really did he gain besides an unwilling servant and a few Mudbloods petrified? If anything he lost more, with the Basilisk gone. Riddle was very angry indeed.

He realized that he needed to come back in a big way. He needed to think of something that would make the world realize the power of Dark Arts. He needed to start a revolution, but first he needed Harry Potter to _really_ be on his side. The fear tactic was a great weapon, but it only worked for a short period of time. Soon, fear would not have a hold on Harry any longer.

Tom Riddle did not worry about his revolution, because he knew everything would work out. He was too genius for them not too.

BEASTBEASTBEASTBEASTBEASTBEASTBEASTBEASTBEASTBEAST

Author's Note: Sorry so short!! This is not at all how I wanted this one to be, but oh well. Probably won't update for awhile, cause I gotts a big Creative Writing project to work on, so sorry…


	11. Monster

Disclaimer: not even in my dreams

Chapter Eleven: Monster

It was bright outside with a warm breeze. A perfect day for flying, a day so perfect, Harry was willing to believe that the day was actually made for flying. He soared high above the school, feeling the sensation of happiness that one can only get by flying on a broomstick.

However, soon the sky filled with clouds, threatening rain. Thunder sounded, and a razor sharp wind blew Harry out of the sky, and back into the ground in an unfamiliar area.

Looking around, Harry noticed that trees were all around him, leading him to believe he landed in a clearing of some kind of forest. The weather still blazing, Harry struggled to get to his feet, only to topple back around as the result of another strong push from the wind.

From his place on the ground, Harry could make out a figure, and it was amazing that he could hear through the raging storm, but Harry heard the words perfectly.

"Harry? Why'd you do this to me?" The figured cried out, and the rain began to increase. Harry strained his eyes to see through the natural force of wind and rain, but still the figured remained just that, a figure.

"Why did you do this to me?" It repeated, and then repeated the same words again and again. Each time, with a little more emotion, a little more conviction, until finally the figure sounded angry, ready to kill. Harry began to feel frightened as the figure moved closer.

Harry's fears were confirmed when the figure was close enough to become a person. It was Neville Longbottom. He looked exactly the same as he did that same fateful night in the Chamber.

"You betrayed me Harry," said Neville accusingly, pointing a finger like a child. "You tortured me, and then lied about it!"

"Shut up," Harry said harshly, as if someone were around to hear. "I only did it to save you! I had no choice in the matter. He was going to kill you, then everyone else. You should be on your knees thanking me!"

Neville smiled a smile which didn't fit his personality. It was unnatural on his face, and it gave Harry the creeps.

"Now who does that remind us of?" Neville taunted, "Too much time spent with Tom Riddle has rubbed off on you. You're almost jus like him, and soon you will be."

"No," Harry said, "you're wrong."

"But I'm not wrong," Neville continued, Harry's anger rising with every passing second Neville spoke. "In the last three months you have learned the Dark Arts well. You know spells no one should have ever invented, and you _like_ it."

"Shut up," said Harry in a low warning voice.

"You're smart enough to know Dumbledore would have protected your family! And if you waited just a little while longer, he would have found us, and Tom would be in hiding right now." Neville paused, "You like the Dark Arts, and something inside you craves it."

"I said shut up!" Harry reached for his wand to attack but it wasn't there.

"You lost it during your fall," said Neville, "like you should have lost your life. You're better off dead to this world now. You're just like Riddle."

Then Neville got out his own wand, and pointed it at Harry, who felt as if he was falling again.

This time Harry landed on the hard wood floor of the boy's dormitory, with the blanket wrapped around his body in a weird way. He was sweating, and was just beginning to realize, it had just been a dream.

Harry rubbed his reddened eyes, and checked the clock. It was eleven. He was late. Normal students didn't have to worry about being late on Saturdays, but Harry had lessons with Riddle every Saturday. He took his time getting ready. After the night, he just had, Riddle could wait whether he liked it or not.

After doing all the things he needed in the slowest pace possible, Harry made his way to the library to meet Riddle in the same slow pace. When he got there, Riddle was sitting at the last table, his head in the books, like every Saturday.

He looked up, and smiled when seeing Harry, who thought this behavior was strange. Shouldn't he be angry right now? Harry had come thirty minutes late, and Riddle wasn't known for patience.

"Hello, Harry," said Riddle, "what are you doing here?"

"It's Saturday," Harry said, coldly. "Why do you _think_ I'm here?"

For a moment, Riddle looked confused. Harry briefly wondered if he had turned more into a psychopath than he already was.

"Oh, that," Riddle said, "I've bee meaning to tell you, I've decided that forcing you to join me wasn't such a great plan." Harry glared at Riddle like he was stupid. It took him three months to figure that out? Riddle continued, "You can do whatever you like."

Riddle focused back on his book, flipping the page. Harry remained where he was, staring at him, perplexed, until Riddle felt the stare, and looked back up at Harry.

"What kind of trick is this?" Harry demanded.

"It's no trick," Riddle assured him, "I already had you. Why would I need to manipulate you any further?"

Harry thought about this, and it made sense, but he wasn't ready to trust Riddle's motives yet.

"What about my family?"

"I will not harm your family," said Riddle, annoyed. "I told you, you're free of this. You should leave before I change my mind."

However, Harry did not leave just yet. For some reason he could not get himself to believe what Riddle was saying was true. Just minutes ago, he was bound to the Dark Arts forever, his whole life planned, but had he really been set free from all that? Did Riddle really hold the power there?

Harry convinced himself that Riddle did, for if he couldn't that meant Harry wasn't really free after all. He finally managed to turn his back on Riddle when he called out his name.

"There is one thing," Riddle started, "that I need assistance with. This is optional for you. I won't make you. You'd be doing me a favor."

Harry stopped and turned back around, intrigued. "What kind of favor?"

"It will be dangerous."

Harry glanced at the door. It was wide open, he could leave if he wanted to, but he found himself desiring to help Riddle this one last time. He had no idea why he was doing, or what he was doing, but he walked back over to Riddle, and sat down.

"What's the mission?"

* * *

Author's Note: Well, there you go. And now I will sleep. Oh, and this chapter was inspired by a song named Monster by Skillet. It's an awesome new song. Check it out!


	12. The Mudblood

Chapter Twelve: The Mudblood

The library was even more boring in the dead of the night, than it was in the day time. At least during the day, people filled the aisles of books, but the library at night time was a deserted place filled only with darkness. Although Harry couldn't be sure that the restricted section was ever filled with people. He thought not. It wasn't called restricted because students were encouraged to go there. Still, it had to be more lively than this.

Harry pulled the invisibility cloak closer to his body, taking extra precaution. He didn't want to think about the consequences of if he were caught there. It wouldn't be pretty.

For a moment, Harry let his thoughts run free. He had no idea why Hogwarts even had a restricted section. Was it just there to be forbidden, and therefore be a torture to the students? If the books there were so bad, what were they even doing in the school? Wouldn't it be easier to just not keep those certain books out of the school? Because if they were restricted, when would they ever be read? Harry didn't know, but it was these questions that kept reappearing in his mind.

He shook out of his distraction, and remembered the task at hand. The sooner Harry found Tom's book, the better. He was having doubts about helping Riddle, now, though it was a little too late for that. There was just something all too interesting and exciting about being involved with the Dark Arts, and after all what harm could a book do?

And this was the last time. The last time he would ever help Riddle out with rule breaking. At least that's what he told himself.

Harry was lucky that there was just enough moonlight shining through the windows to allow him to see the titles of the books. There was questionable stuff, and most of them were about the Dark Arts. Harry was tempted to steal one for himself, but remembered what Tom had said about it being too risky so Harry kept searching for the book Riddle wanted so badly, _Secrets to Being Immortal_.

How Tom even knew that Hogwarts had this book was beyond Harry. Tom knew so much about everything that he shouldn't; it was hard to imagine how exactly where he got his information.

Harry didn't agree with Riddle about almost anything, and was still recovering from what happened down in the Chamber. It made no sense to Harry as why he was doing this for Riddle now, other than Harry had grown bored, and this was exciting. Harry had also spent three months with Riddle afterward, and even though he worked under Riddle by force, Harry had learned to admire him the same way he did before the Chamber.

It was horrible that Harry thought of Riddle as a big brother after everything, all the threats, all the spells Harry was forced to use. But the truth was, they were in fact related. Harry couldn't turn his back completely on family, or, at least that's what he told himself.

Harry's heart jumped as he found the correct book. It jumped again as Harry heard footsteps coming his way, and a third time when the cloak was ripped off of him. He turned the book still in hand, and faced the form of Albus Dumbledore, frowning at him.

* * *

By the time Dumbledore allowed him to leave the Headmaster's office, it was four AM, and Harry was fuming. He had never felt anger like that before, anger that he didn't care if it got out of control.

The book was confiscated, of course, but also taken from the selves so the incident wouldn't happen again. Harry's parents were informed, and seeing as there were only two weeks left at Hogwarts, that was punishment enough. If Harry was this mad himself, he could only imagine that Tom would be even angrier. It was worse with Riddle, because his negative energy would be directed at Harry whereas Harry's was directed at Hermione.

It was frustrating that she would rat on him to Dumbledore, and even more frustrating that Harry knew he wouldn't be able rat on her to Riddle. Dumbledore was forgiving and merciful, and Harry knew for a fact that Riddle was not. It simply wasn't in Tom's nature. If it wasn't for Hermione's past friendship, she would have been dead for what she did to Riddle and Harry.

When Harry finally reached the common room, the fireplace was going, and the last person he wanted to see sat in front of it. Harry looked at her, and felt no trace of what he used to. Love and friendship was replaced with bitterness and anger. Harry hated to think it, but he even wanted revenge, but knew he couldn't have it without going too far, and killing her.

Hermione had heard him enter, and turned around. Her eyes were wet, as if she had been crying. Harry felt no pity. He had stopped his advancement towards his dorm, and she had stood up. The children stared at each other for a total of one minute before Harry's hand flinched to his wand, unconsciously. He was able to stop himself.

"That's it right there!" Hermione shouted.

"That's what?" Harry asked back, without having a clue of what Hermione was talking about.

"It's why I had to tell Dumbledore I saw you leave tonight," she answered, "You haven't been yourself lately, and it's like I've already told you, I'm worried."

"You're paranoid," Harry said, stiffly.

"You almost attacked me just now!" Hermione said, the tears starting again. Harry grimaced. He hated it when people cried.

"I did not," Harry lied. "And in case you've forgotten, you're the one who ratted on me. I'm the one entitled to be angry."

Without listening to another word Hermione said, Harry went to his dorm, collapsing on his four poster bed. Pushing her away wasn't about protecting her anymore. Now, Harry wasn't sure they could ever be friends like they used too, but just because he was angry with her, didn't mean he'd let her suffer by the hands of Riddle.

The next morning, it was with dread he went to tell Riddle of the failure. He was supposed to be going to give him the book, and this surprise Riddle was not going to like. Harry entered the Room of Requirement, a place Harry was now used to transforming to fit their needs, whether they may be. They had used this room often while Riddle trained him.

Now the room looked like any other room. Harry guessed giving someone a book didn't require a great transformation. Riddle stood at the near the entrance. Harry shut the door behind him.

"Where is it?" Riddle said eagerly, he had obviously not expected Harry to get caught.

"Well, you were right about it being in the restricted section," said Harry, thinking it would be better to compliment Riddle before disappointing him.

Riddle frowned. His excitement had left him, as he now knew that something had gone wrong. "And?"

"I had it, but then Dumbledore caught me." Harry said quickly, ripping off the bandage. He put his head down, and shut his eyes, waiting for the blow, but it never came. Harry peaked at Riddle with one eye to find him in deep thought.

"That doesn't make any sense," said Riddle, perplexed. "How did he know? Dumbledore would have had to be tipped off."

Again, Harry had no idea where Riddle got some of the things he said and knew, but went with it.

"I ran into something, and it made a lot of noise." Harry said this all too quickly, causing Riddle to look curiously at him.

"You're lying," said Riddle, calmly.

"I'm not lying," Harry said, trying to steady his voice.

"You are," Riddle insisted, "and you will tell me what happened willingly, or I will _rip_ the information from you." Riddle's and went to the pocket of his cloak, over his wand.

Harry went wide-eyed. He was so tempted to tell Riddle everything, but couldn't bring himself to do that to Hermione, no matter how much she deserved it. Harry kept his mouth shut, thinking that Riddle was buffing about that whole ripping information thing.

Without any warning, Harry went flying against the wall and was held there by some kind of invisible pressure. He groaned, and Riddle approached.

"I don't know why you insist on doing things the hard way," said Riddle, pointing his wand at Harry's forehead. "I'm sure you remember how much this hurt the last time."

"Wait, don't, I'll tell you." Harry screamed, panic stricken. He did remember how much pain he was in the last time. He did ever want to go through that again, especially for Hermione, and especially if Riddle was just going to find out anyways. Riddle lowered his wand, and Harry was released. He fell to the floor, breathing heavily.

"Well, I'm waiting," said Riddle, impatiently.

"Hermione must have seen me leave," Harry said, hating himself all the more. First Neville, and now Hermione? "She told Dumbledore."

"The Mudblood!" Riddle shouted, "I knew she was trouble for us." Harry noticed he had said us, and shuddered.

Harry got to his feet, regaining his bravery. "You can't kill her."

"Don't worry," said Riddle, "Killing causes too much fuss, too much time to plan when you must not be credited for it. Believe me, if it wasn't for that she would be dead in the next hour."

"What are you going to do?" Harry pressed, somewhat excited. It looked as if he would get his revenge without killing after all.

"Something special," Riddle grinned, and so did Harry.

* * *

Author's Note: ok, there it is. Only about two chapters left, then I'll probably write a sequel. I feel like this one has dragged on too much, because I was gonna stop writing soon after the scenes in the Chamber. Anyways, byes, and as always I love your feedback. My reviewers are awesome!!!


	13. Announcmet SORRY

Sorry. This isn't another chapter. I hate these things too! Anyways, due to major blocking and me rereading through the story, I've decided to rewrite and take in another direction. I rushed it, and I don't think it's as good as it should be. The rewrite will be a lot better, promise. It shouldn't be too long until the first chapter is posted, and it will be popping up under a similar title.

** If not the same title, I will repost here to let you guys know what it's called so you can find it if you want.


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